


Nocturnal Pleasure

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Sagas of Sundry: Dread
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Yuletide 2018, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 19:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: Kayden's pretty sure this isn't the purpose for which Tanner's parents built him a home darkroom.





	Nocturnal Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kajivar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kajivar/gifts).



> A Yuletide Treat for kajivar.

It’s one of those nights when even after the sun goes down the heat just won’t quit. Kayden leaves his parents arguing over something petty made mountainous by the oppressive warmth of the trailer, gets in his car, and would drive aimlessly around town except that he knows exactly where he wants to go.

He throws pebbles at Tanner’s bedroom window until Tanner’s sister pokes her head out of the neighboring window and tells him in no uncertain terms that he’s disturbing the peace.

“He’s in the shed,” she adds at the very end before flipping him the bird and yanking the curtain shut.

“Thanks, Harper.”

“Fuck off,” she says through the curtain.

It’s a relief that Tanner’s not in the house anyway. His parents aren’t exactly members of the Kayden fan club.

Kayden slips through the side gate, down along where the faux adobe at the front of the house turns to businesslike brick, and crosses the backyard to the shed. The chemical smell that emanates from it says it’s no garden shed and in fact would say _meth lab_ if not for the red light mounted over the door; meth cookers tend not to advertise their operating hours. The light is on, casting eerie shadows as an apathetic breeze stirs the leaves of the one old checkerbark juniper tree that overhangs the shed.

As is his wont, Kayden ignores the light and just opens the door; it’s not like it’s that bright outside to wreck Tanner’s precious lighting setup anyway, and he’s more or less gotten the hang of sneaking in and out as quickly as possible, except for those occasions where he feels like being an asshole, which is a lot of them.

He closes the door gently, although Tanner’s got music playing, so he could’ve barged in yodeling and Tanner probably wouldn’t have noticed.

Then he _sees_ Tanner and knows that Tanner wouldn’t have noticed.

The darkroom is meticulously set up with safelights so it’s not too bright for the film. For a backyard shed, the bench and sinks are of good quality, as is the shed itself. Two tall stools are placed at the bench so that Tanner doesn’t even have to drag his seat from one end of the operation to the other. The bottles of chemicals have a neat rack to themselves placed up high in case any of Tanner’s younger nieces and nephews get in. Even the stereo, which currently features Meat Loaf singing about the words being taken right out of his mouth, has its own particular place. Everything is clean and tidy.

Everything but the crappy, second-hand armchair that Tanner, for whatever reason of his own, dragged in from the curb one day and installed in a corner despite his mother’s protests. It’s leaking stuffing, the color can only be described as beige with pretensions, and even an artfully draped throw blanket over the back can’t hide that it took some weather damage before Tanner rescued it.

They’ve all taken turns sitting in that chair, hanging out while Tanner develops photos, doing homework or working on college applications or just shooting the shit. Darby and Raina have made out in it, Sat has slept on it a few nights when things got bad at home, and Kayden’s burned at least three holes in it with cigarettes.

Right now, however, Tanner’s sitting in it, a leg slung over one sagging arm. His eyes are closed, his glasses sitting on the bench, making his face look more open and vulnerable. He’s biting his lower lip, perfect white teeth sunk into the reddened skin. His ugly plaid shirt of the day, which Kayden _thinks_ might be purple and green in the glow of the safelight, is hanging open and he’s not wearing anything underneath.

Oh, and also his pants are on the floor and his hand is on his cock.

Kayden’s first instinct, much to his own surprise, is to sneak back out, close the door, and then either knock really loudly or maybe just go back to his car and get fantastically stoned. He even takes a half-step backward, ready to do the honorable thing and leave his friend to his solitary nocturnal activities.

Then Tanner moans, a soft broken sound of pleasure, and Kayden knows he isn’t leaving.

The shed’s concrete slab is covered over with linoleum, but there’s also a tatty old rug laid out under the armchair (upon which Kayden has slept when both he and Sat were having shitty nights at home), and he creeps onto it before lowering himself to his knees, grateful that Tanner’s not listening to some light fluffy classical shit.

Up close it’s even better. He can hear Tanner’s uneven breathing, admire the spattering of freckles across his bare chest, and feel the way that the chair shifts with Tanner’s movements.

Not that it’s a whole lot. Kayden isn’t overly familiar with Tanner’s masturbatory habits, but tonight Tanner seems to be taking it slow. His fingers are slicker with lotion than Kayden would ever personally tolerate, his fist is only loosely closed around his cock, and each stroke is almost perfunctory. It’s like he only just learned about the existence of masturbation and is attempting to emulate something he read somewhere.

But then Tanner squeezes harder for three quick jerks, another of those broken moans escaping his throat, before resuming the delicate light tease, and Kayden gets it.

He’s never had much patience for being this slow, himself. It’s hard to take time and savor the experience when separated from the rest of his family by thin trailer walls. He’s surprised Tanner’s doing this out here when he _does_ have a bedroom with decent walls and a bed without any broken springs.

On the other hand, thank you _very_ much Tanner for being too self-conscious to jerk off in your own bedroom, this is a _delightful_ way to spend a visit. Kayden doesn’t even move to get his own cock out, although part of him (namely, his cock) would very much like him to do so. He’s too focused on the slow glide of Tanner’s cock in his fist: a little longer than the average but perhaps slimmer, the base surrounded by fine ginger hair that’s almost gold in the safelight’s glow.

This time he spots the tension in Tanner’s forearm as he goes in for those rougher strokes, the way his fingers flex, and glances up in time to see Tanner’s mouth open to let the moan escape. And this time the sound is accompanied by, “Fuckin’ tease...”

Well, _hello_. Tanner’s not just playing with himself; he’s imagining someone else putting him through this. Kayden palms his own cock through his pants. It’s probably Sat. Tanner’s been into her for _years_. Although it’s a little weird because he doesn’t think Tanner would swear at Sat. Matter of fact he doesn’t think Tanner would _fantasize_ about Sat, not in this secretive nigh-sleazy way. He thinks Tanner probably fantasizes much tidier things about Sat.

Tanner runs through his little cycle again. The duration of the slow tease seems to be based on nothing other than whim, but the quickened pace is always three jerks, accompanied by that _fucking_ moan.

“ _Please_ ,” Tanner practically whimpers, and that does it; Kayden’s pawing his jeans open and leaps beyond the point where he could conceivably pretend that he’d only just walked in rather than having been there for several minutes.

He tries to match Tanner’s teasing pace and is physically incapable of it; he’s too used to hard and fast, and that’s not what this evening’s entertainment is about for Tanner. Or maybe Tanner just never has a regular jerk-off session; maybe this is a sizeable helping of Catholic guilt manifesting itself as a clandestine meeting between Tanner and whoever’s tormenting him in his imagination.

The alternative option presents itself seconds later, when Tanner’s pace quickens once more, and this time he growls, “Fucking cocktease, Kayden—”

Kayden nearly comes on the spot.

Scanning Tanner’s face frantically, he can’t see any sign that Tanner’s been watching him, or indeed paying any attention to anything beyond what’s playing out on the movie screen in his head. Tanner’s switched back to the slower strokes, although from what Kayden can see (which is rather a lot) he’s squeezing himself harder. There’s no outward indication that he knows Kayden is physically present.

The next cycle is shorter, and the next, until Tanner’s barely slowing down at all. Kayden’s name keeps rolling off his tongue like an obscenity or a prayer.

When he _whimpers_ , “Kayden, _please_ ,” Kayden stops giving a fuck about the line between fantasizing and reality, pushes Tanner’s hand out of the way, and takes over. He’d look at Tanner’s face to see his reaction, but then he wouldn’t be able to suck the head of Tanner’s cock into his mouth and demonstrate exactly how he _wouldn’t_ tease the shit out of Tanner, given the chance.

Tanner’s fingers, still lotion-slick, twist into his mohawk, but not to stop him.

Tanner must’ve been right on the edge already; he comes within seconds, and Kayden swallows him down.

“H-hey,” Tanner manages after a couple of minutes of attempting to calm his breathing. “Didn’t know you were dropping by.”

“Smartass,” Kayden says, emphasizing his point by biting Tanner’s pale bare thigh. No, not all pale; there’s a pretty smattering of freckles there too. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I don’t have a constant aura of pot smoke,” Tanner says primly. “Come up here.”

“I’m not sitting in your fucking lap.”

“Oh? Then I’m not touching your fucking dick.”

Kayden goes up there, at first attempting to squeeze in beside Tanner, but the chair’s just not quite that big and he does indeed end up sprawled over Tanner’s lap, too turned on to feel utterly awkward about it. Once he’s settled Tanner obligingly _does_ take hold of his cock; enough of the lotion’s gone by now that there’s just a— _fuck_ —perfect degree of friction.

“You always think about me when you’re jerking off?”

“Only sometimes, don’t flatter yourself.” Tanner slings his other arm around Kayden’s shoulders, holding him tight.

“Am I always a fucking cocktease?”

Kayden can feel Tanner’s cheek heat up where it’s pressed against his own. “No. Sometimes it’s the opposite.”

“As in?”

“Sometimes we have to be quick.” Tanner turns his head, delivering a soft bite to the side of Kayden’s neck. “Because we don’t have time. Or because we just can’t wait.”

“Go on, then,” Kayden says, and Tanner works him hard and fast until Kayden groans, “Ah, fuck, _Tanner_ ,” and makes a mess of them both.

Tanner wipes his hand across Kayden’s stomach; his fingers are shaking a little, and Kayden guesses it’s not due to the activities he’s put them through.

“You okay?” he asks.

Tanner gives him a wide-eyed look, like a deer that’s been in the headlights for the last few minutes but only just realized it should look up and maybe consider running. “Did we really just do that?”

Kayden curls his fingers into Tanner’s hair and kisses him until he stops shaking, until all he’s doing is kissing back and making soft pleased noises.

“We did,” he says eventually. “If that’s a problem, it’s your problem. I don’t have a problem with it, except for the fact that you used my skin instead of a goddamn Kleenex, you animal.”

“I couldn’t reach the box with you sitting on me, you asshole,” Tanner says, and that’s how Kayden knows Tanner actually _is_ okay.

He gets up, finds the tissues, and wipes himself as clean as possible. There’s a minor wet spot on his t-shirt, but it’s honestly probably seen worse. He zips and buttons his jeans and turns around to see that Tanner’s on his feet pulling his chinos back on, although his shirt still hangs open. Kayden slips his arms around Tanner’s waist, not quite sure how he’ll take it; Tanner responds by putting his arms around Kayden’s neck and being the one to start the kiss this time.

“I don’t have a problem with it,” he clarifies, although his voice holds a tremor and Kayden wonders just how true that is, just when it might come back to bite them in the ass.

“Okay. Sure.”

“We should—I don’t know, do you want to come up to the house?” Tanner says.

“And now our bodies are oh so close and tight,” Meat Loaf contributes from the tape player.

“You know, I hear when this song first came out, couples used to see if they could kiss for the entire length of the song,” Kayden says, sitting back down, pulling Tanner into his lap.

“I guess it’s not like I have a curfew...”

The only downside is that perhaps they were a little too hasty in putting their clothes back on.


End file.
